By Royal Decree
by sophie.a.manion
Summary: King Geoff of Achievement City watches his kingdom descending into a state of chaos as his friends become popular contenders to usurp the throne from him. He creates a unique tournament to decide the fate of the kingdom. (Very accurate AHKings fanfic from the Youtube Minecraft videos. Some foul language). PLEASE REVIEW.
1. Chapter 1

**By Royal Decree – The Reign of King Geoff, of House Ramsey**

**Chapter One: The First King**

Crippling fear was growing amongst the people of Achievement City; King Geoff could almost smell it wherever he walked, a heavy and rancid odour that spread more rapidly than any fire. Murmurs, whispers, disapproving faces set in hard lines of mistrust…

Politics, that's all it really came down to in the end. The will of the people was a formidable thing and it did not always act in its best interests.

In his mighty citadel of stone, King Geoff scowled and drunk heavily from a flagon of ale. His villagers took this moment to press their case, sensing that their liege was also falling victim to the same doubts that plagued their fair city.

"The people are beginning to talk, my Lord. Your knights, these powerful warriors you cavort around with in our kingdom, their exploits are… stirring the unrest. Jack in particular, although he has no ambition to speak of, has won the hearts of the people with his simple generosity."

Jack the Humble, they called him. Jack the Loyal. King Geoff understood his villagers' concerns and knew better than to correct their assumptions of his friend's lack of motivation. Enormous ambition welled in his friend, just not the type they would recognise or comprehend. His steadfast bearded friend had his sights not on supremacy and conquest but rather on family and happiness. All the times they had journeyed into the Netherworld side by side, or rode on horseback across the plains of the kingdom or slain vicious creatures of the night, Jack had confessed that he would rather build a simply house, thatch it and spend his days adding to the small comforts of his new family. He had no real drive to rule over anybody, except to champion the rights of the disadvantaged. He truly was a humble, hardworking companion, one whose friendship Geoff did not take for granted.

There were many ways to topple a King and not all of them violent. That Jack and his other closest friends were 'stirring the unrest' was an understatement. Geoff had unfortunately spent so much of his time away from the commonfolk, holed up in the citadel, save when he and his associates ventured forth into the land to erect monuments or stage tournaments. The people were searching for an alternative to their distant, if prolific, King. Jack had power in the will of the people; there was no mistaking that fact, even if he had no desire to slip a knife between his liege's ribs any day soon.

The others had their merits and were also gaining sway in the kingdom however, there were a few Geoff suspected that had considered less honourable ways of hastening their ascension.

"Even Ryan, whom some say can commute with the beasts, grows in the people's favour," Geoff's faithful villager continued sourly.

Ryan the Animal-Whisperer. The Prince of Beasts, some said, though Geoff knew his affinity with the animal kingdom did not give him leave to don a crown and call himself a monarch. There was a certain mystique to Ryan that lent him charm, a hidden grandeur and fierce intelligence that made him a considerable foe in the friendly contests they held together. He had a willingness to exploit loopholes, to bend rules and to utilise his vast array of knowledge to frightful ends. Certainly, he was a man who was willing to go to less honourable lengths to achieve victory although with Ryan sometimes it was not easy to determine what his goal was. Sly, smiling and outwardly pleasant… That was the gift of the House of Haywood. Geoff did not want to imagine what power would do to a man like Ryan.

"And there are the younger heroes too," another villagers piped up as Geoff's semblance grew troubled. "Mogar the Great is regarded as the most magnificent warrior in the land. Of course, it is not only those faces close and dear to the people that have earned their respect. Others have too. They say that the dark-skinned man from across the Silver Sea who dresses in black and white grandeur and holds a fresh red rose betwixt his fingers quietly claims victory in many of your feats of skill, bravery and intelligence."

Michael and Ray. Young, talented and courageous but with very different strengths. Michael had earned the name Mogar when he slew a terrific mountain-bear unarmed and had worn the pelt of the creature ever since to reinforce his legend. With a sword in hand, the champion of many bouts of strength was utterly terrifying. Ray, although a foreigner, was much admired. The people adored his reserved manner of excellence, the quiet way he would surpass all opponents. Amongst the younger villagers he held a special affinity, one of simultaneous kinship and heroism.

King Geoff ran a hand down his sheathed weapon and his knuckles grew white. He'd built his kingdom up from nothing with his own sweat and tears yet the threat of rebellion and war hovered constantly over his head, like a guillotine waiting to plunge down. His daughter the princess was simply too young to hold her claim unless her father could offer a solution to appease these restless warriors and their devoted factions within the city. The House of Ramsey was vulnerable and he knew it.

Geoff swore badly under his breath. He just wanted time with his family! His soul ached for a peaceful resolution to the disturbance, for recreation and the chance to continue to add to Achievement City's splendour unheeded. He didn't need this, especially not from those who were like kin to him. Although if history had any lessons to show it was that those who were considered friends were the most dangerous to those in power.

"Ah, sire, there are even suggestions being brought forward… Some say that your foundling, Gavin the Free, should be the rightful heir and that you should step aside and give him the throne."

That stung King Geoff more than he was willing to admit but he hid these thoughts behind a stoic face. Gavin, his boy. 'The Free' given that he had come from lands largely unknown but the little title suited his personality more than the people knew. Foolish, quirky, hilarious and thoughtful, no one could hazard a guess to accurately predict the next wild scheme that would come out of Gavin's mouth. And people adored him; there wasn't much to dislike, especially when you didn't have to live with him. Together he and Geoff had constructed huge sections of the kingdom, built it up stone by stone.

His cheeky, foolish, well-meaning adopted son from a far off land; that he would betray his own father and his own family had never even occurred to Geoff… That after all the merriment and games they'd shared together…

Something in that morose thought sparked an idea in Geoff. The King stood, armour gently clanking together, his drink in one hand. In a quiet voice he saw both advisors out of his citadel with promises that he would look into restoring the peace as soon as possible.

"It won't come to war, I'll figure something out," he assured both of them as they trekked the incredible length of the main room of his citadel together. Torches threw flickering orange and red light from the walls but most of his recluse hid in shadow, hanging high overhead.

Both relieved that their somewhat cloistered King was taking matters into his own hands and slightly curious, the villagers merely bowed and hastened out as they were bid. Their King had the ability of flight, a ferocious temper and a fierce will to protect his family. They murmured quietly in the gathering darkness that they would be steadfast to him and House Ramsey before parting ways in the Town Square.

Alone now, Geoff pulled paper from one of his depositories and noted down the details of his inspiration. It would take some time and effort but he believed that he had hit upon a decent solution. The quick sketches and notes steadily became a consolidated plan.

A vast enchanted Throne Room set in gold and maroon… An Arena fit for Kings… A series of challenges to determine supremacy…

Minutes later Geoff swigged back the last of his ale and set to writing his missive on a fresh sheet of paper to go in the Town Square Noticeboard:

'By Royal Decree, His Majesty Geoff of House Ramsey commands that in five moons henceforth Ryan of House Haywood, Jack of House Pattillo, Mogar of House Jones and the honourable Ray, from across the Silver Sea and Gavin the Free, his majesty's foundling son, will present themselves to his Majesty for the purpose of determining a system of Rule in our fair kingdom.'

He reread over his words only once before setting the missive aside. There was so much to be done. Geoff walked over and unlocked his wooden chests, searching for a serviceable diamond axe, gold and other materials. This time the game would not only be for the honour of a Golden Tower but something with far more extensive consequences. This game would separate the mere men from the Kings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Enchanted Arena**

Geoff floated, drifting almost lazily up to the summit of his throne and stared down at his friends.

They had all attended to his summons, gathering first in the Town Square until he had led them into the forest, far from the villagers' prying eyes, to his custom-built arena. They had followed him under the mighty Iron Gate and stood gawping on the red carpet he had laid, trying to take in the spectacle of his enormous golden throne. Each of them had admired their names whittled above immaculate obsidian boulders, hand-crafted by the King himself. Only Gavin, who had assisted him with the last of his arrangements, had been prepared for the sight. Even so, Geoff watched his adopted son's eyes widen, no doubt imagining himself atop that glorious perch they had forged together, wearing Geoff's crown. Only Ray seemed truly unaffected by the arena's glory. Upon entering he'd immediately bent down and picked himself a fresh rose to carry with him, his talisman for the coming events.

"Hello, loyal subjects," Geoff called from the pinnacle of his creation. He settled back into the throne, laying his bare blade across his armoured lap so that the diamond sparkled in the bright sunlight.

"Happy birthday Geoff!" his adopted son was fervent with excitement, dressed in green to fully utilise the camouflage techniques of the malicious Creepers – hideous reptilian monsters that crawled out of crevices under the cover of night to obliterate the unaware. His whole body seemed electrified, especially his wayward hair. It stuck out in every direction, giving the illusion of golden tints in the otherwise copper-coloured explosion of hair. His handsome face had a half-smile of eagerness for the day's adventures and adoration for his King.

The others echoed his salutation well enough but there was anticipation in the air – what exactly where they doing here?

"We have a situation, my friends," Geoff's dark eyes scanned their faces with intense scrutiny. "You know what I'm talking about. My other subjects in Achievement City grow restless and have chosen each of you as possible replacements for me and my family on the throne. It's not your doing, I know that, but you have each grown popular and a threat to the House of Ramsey."

Uneasiness settled upon the group. They all knew what he was referring to and they didn't want to admit how much the idea had appealed to them. Jack hung his head a little in shame.

"My little girl is my heir and the next in line however, I do not want any bloodshed over her right to lead the kingdom," Geoff continued sternly. He was pleased to see Mogar frown at his statement, as though the idea of killing a kid repulsed him. "So I have come up with this. This arena is more remarkable than it looks." He pointed with one gauntlet-clad hand at the Gate. "From the moment you walked in you fell under its enchantment and the game can now begin. A battle for the right to hold the throne until my daughter is old enough to take it as her own. By walking underneath those arches you are bound by magic not to harm her or my family or the King who shall win his dominion today in combat. You will carry out my orders exactly in order to win this throne, whether they be to build, to find, to conquer or to slit a man's throat."

"You'd run out of people to play real quick," laughed Jack, a slight edge of nervousness entering his chuckle. The idea of murdering his best friends did not appeal to him at all.

"Ah, there's where the enchantment comes in," Geoff waved to gesture to an area behind the throne. "Back there, you'll find your quarters. Lay in one of those beds and the enchantment begins. While we compete you cannot die or be fatally injured, instead, any time you fall to another's hand you will be transported back to that bed to continue the competition. You will lose all items and materials you have gathered however, to the victor who vanquished you in the field. No one is dying today my friends, but the battle will be conducted with real steel and blood."

His companions walked the periphery of his enormous throne to find stairs which descended into the earth. Somehow they all felt more than a little nervous, even though their King had just told them plainly that not one of them would die. But they would still feel the pain of death. It would still feel real to them.

"After you," Michael offered, swinging an arm to let Gavin lead them down underground. His friend didn't hesitate and all of the others watched his flyaway hair disappear into the dark mystery of the ground. Ray followed, adjusting his rose as he walked. On his heels were Jack, Ryan and of course, the polite Mogar.

Downstairs the air felt thick with enchantment, a kind of electric static that clung to every mote of dust and almost crackled on the dirt walls. Jack held a hand briefly to his chest; he felt as though he were breathing the spell into his lungs. The beds were there as promised, all creepily identical in matching royal shades of gold and red. Gavin merely punched a white pillow into a better shape before he lay down on one, obediently shutting his eyes straight away. Clearly he had no reservations about trusting the King's assurances. Jack took the bed next to him, lying so close that anyone watching could have almost sworn that the two of them were cuddling. Ray had let his gaze wander around the room and found a small inlet, titled 'Dump Hole' in writing that could have only been Geoff's. He snorted laughter and then, more confident after reading the light-hearted joke, crept into another bed on the other side of the room that faced the Dump Hole.

Ryan was the last to take his place in an enchanted bed. The entire situation had a distinctly perturbed feel to it, as though he'd managed to walk off solid ground onto thin ice. Even this room, just a simple area under the ground for them to rest their heads, had Ryan on edge.

He blinked furiously and willed himself to calm down. As he moved towards a bed he could have almost sworn that he caught a glimpse of a ghostly body, sitting on the bed he was supposed to rest in. Ryan couldn't shake the feeling of trepidation and for a moment he just stood, immobile as any statue, trying to screw his courage to a place where he could begin the tournament. Everyone else was sound asleep. Why couldn't he just lie down and follow Geoff's directions?

_When I am King, I will bear witness to worse deeds than enchanted rooms and frightening shadows, _he thought to himself. _Today begins my conquest. I should not falter at the very start of my reign. _Then, with only the slightest hesitation, he copied his friends and obediently took his place in a bed.

Outside, Geoff knew that his friends had finally done as he had commanded and let out a sigh of relief. He'd expected someone, maybe Ryan or Ray, to protest against the measures he'd taken for the competition but no one had said a thing. He sagged into the bed he had prepared for himself, giving him the same magical protection as the others, just in case the worst was to happen and someone in the competition decided he would take it upon himself to make the King quit breathing.

_They don't really understand this place yet, _Geoff reminded himself. _They don't know that by lying down in those beds they have ensured that when the season changes we will all be transported back here, to this place, to duel again for the crown. Their time as King is limited. I cannot afford to let my people suffer the wrath of a poor King for long but if they have the might to repeatedly earn the throne, they will reign for longer. Replaying the games every season will let me earn my throne back but also limit the damage of a new King who is not able to lead the kingdom well. _

His preparations were not only to serve his House but the entire nation and satisfied that he'd done everything in his power to keep everyone safe from harm, Geoff closed his eyes and drifted off into a short and refreshing enchanted slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Bloody Beginnings**

When they awoke there was no way of telling how much time had elapsed. The room had not changed, at least, not in any way that they noticed. Gavin sat up too fast in his bed and had to take a moment to shake the stars from his eyes. They could all hear the rustle of the wind outside and a minute sliver of sunlight shone under the door. All seemed utterly peaceful. Even Ryan's sense of forbidding had ceased. Their quarters no longer appeared so mysterious and magical; their underground haven was merely an in-between respite for the difficulties that lay ahead.

Rested and with the assurance of the enchantment that would not let them die, the five men exited the room in a curious, solemn silence. After a series of challenges, one of them would be the ruler of their kingdom. It was a weighty thought, one that stunned them all into silence.

King Geoff was as they had left him, seated casually on his magnificent golden throne, weapon unsheathed and shining as vividly as any star in his lap. He struck them all as a glorious figure - covered in impressive dark green armour from head to toe, clean-shaven and bright –eyed with that characteristic appraising stare on his face they knew so well and that perfect obsidian crown wreathing his head.

"First task, my loyal subjects," he told them, "is a fight to the death right now without weapons. Go!"

Predictably, Mogar recovered his wits first and sank a fist into the man standing next to him. He didn't so much as attack as brutishly slug his weight and might into the most available target. His knuckles connected with a sickening crack against Gavin, who let out a strangled squealing noise in protest.

The sudden noises of violence fired adrenaline into the entire group and at once, the brawl was underway. There was no time to think, just to act. Jack simply ran, hoping to survive unscathed until he only had one opponent. He quickly scaled the wall of the arena and vaulted over, carefully landing in a patch of grass.

"We have to stay here and fight in front of you, right?" Gavin called up to the King, ducking under a right hook Ray had thrown his way.

"Right. Stay in the arena," Geoff commanded.

Jack heard his words and crept back, standing alongside the wall, biding his time.

The competition was fierce, abrupt and bloody. Within moments the fighters were hissing through their pain, sporting various injuries and the intensity of the brawl had reached a frenzied peak. Someone had to break.

Mogar was holding nothing back, bashing Ray repeatedly in the back until his friend was left purple with bruises and desperately cupping his injured left arm close to his chest. Sensing vulnerability, Ryan jammed a vicious elbow into the back of Ray's head. The suited man crumpled to the grass, gasping and then he simply vanished out of sight.

"The enchantment has taken effect. Ray is out of this round," Geoff told them coolly as the combatants circled each other before his throne. Jack spotted the already drying red-brown blood where Ray's form had lain prone on the ground. He hoped the young warrior was now unscathed but there was no way of checking as he had vanished downstairs and wouldn't be allowed to return until there was a victor.

Distracted with worry for Ray, Jack had accidently walked out into the light where he could easily be seen. Mogar pointed at him.

"Jack's trying to hide!" he yelled. "Get him!"

Unbelievably, the others followed Michael's cry and Jack suddenly found himself surrounded by the other contestants. Ryan walloped a blow into his abdomen, knocking the air from his lungs but Jack did not fall. He pelted across the arena floor, gasping to get his wind back, making for the farthest wall he could find. Mogar had Ryan in a headlock and the two of them fought against each other's strength. Gavin gave chase after Jack.

The young boy was not a great match for Jack, who was physically taller and stronger than the scrawny little Gavin could ever hope to be. Although he managed to land a fist on Jack's chest that did hurt quite a bit, his competition simply grabbed him by the belt and scruff of his shirt and threw him against the stone wall. With a horrendous crunching noise Gavin met the structure neck first, his lifeless body slapped against the wall and then, shuddering, the young man also disappeared. Jack bit back the surge of vomit that crept to the back of his throat in reaction to what he'd just done.

Mogar and Ryan had managed to somehow move closer to Jack and the three of them formed an odd triangle of battle. Michael was unpredictable and relentless, crushing his opponent's ribs with a volley of attacks that didn't seem to falter. Pummelling, yelling abuse at his opponents, laughing savagely whenever he spotted weakness - Michael was truly in his element. Ryan was more methodical, assaulting Jack's knees and stomach, trying to bring the man down to the ground where he couldn't try to run away. Jack was tough and a decent fighter but his heart was not in it; he didn't have the single-mindedness of Ryan or the blatant ferocity Mogar had in this fight. He fell next, as Ryan roughly shoved him from behind and followed it up with a kick to the side of his head. Blurred vision and hot tears of pain followed. After a couple of seconds Jack felt the world shrink to a tiny spot of perception. He struggled feebly against several agonising kicks to his ribs and then mercifully he found himself lying in a bed underground. He was out of the round. He had a brief moment of panic but the injury had disappeared as he had and the bone he thought he'd dislocated was intact. Jack met Gavin and Ray's faces with a mixture of relief and uncertainty.

_Will Ryan be able to best Mogar? _He considered it an unlikely outcome. The three eliminated contestants waited patiently, listening intently to the grunts, roars and foul language issuing from somewhere above their heads as the brawl continued.

Mogar dashed blood out of his eyes where his nose had broken and the gore had flecked upwards in the heat of battle. Ryan's jaw was set in a grim line of determination as they closed in on each other, arms aloft, waiting to deflect the assault of the other.

_How do I stop him? _Ryan considered desperately. _How can I bring him down?_

Michael had no such quandaries; he lashed out and managed to seize Ryan's shirt in his hand. With this tenuous hold Mogar forced his other hand behind his opponent's neck and brought Ryan's head crashing abruptly down onto the solid ground. The first thrust left Ryan spitting stones and cursing with surprise, the second made his left side go limp and the third stopped his weird bucking movements altogether. A few gurgles later and Ryan's body vanished, leaving behind flecks of blood, skin and hair where it had been ripped away on the more serrated pebbles on the earth.

Round one had finished. Mogar lent back and only then realised how heavily he was breathing, sucking in huge gasps of air, trying to slow his thudding heart. Adrenaline still surged through his veins. Perspiration ran in thick rivers from his hairline and dripped down his limbs. There were several nasty bruises that, in the wild bloodlust of battle, he hadn't noticed. But suddenly he felt them all – the scraps on his knuckles, the twinge of his ankle, every cry from his protesting muscles and the dull ache of bruises slowly forming.

_Swiss. Fucking. Cheese. _Michael hadn't realised how much of a toll his body had taken and in the aftermath, it felt as though he'd been run over by a whole herd of rampaging beasts.

King Geoff applauded – a gentle sound after the cries of frantic battle. Michael raised his eyes to the King on his throne. Geoff's face was hard to scrutinise but Mogar detected the faintest hint of amazement and – could it be – acceptance?

"Mogar wins. A great victory for you." From a wooden chest next to the golden throne Geoff withdrew something large and square. "Receive your prize, a piece of the Tower."

As was tradition, each game that the friends competed in was concluded with a victor's Tower, a beautiful golden creation to show their grandiosity, highly coveted by all who witnessed their construction. Four golden pieces atop a rare obsidian block - that was the trophy. Mogar half-limped, half-stumbled to the base of the throne and caught a piece of gold Geoff threw down to him then, still cursing at his wounds, placed it on his corresponding obsidian pedestal. One down, three to go. When finished, the entire Tower would shine and stand taller than any of them, signifying the victor's ascension over all of the others. Fitting then, that it should be the prize for the new King.

"Rest, Michael, the next round begins soon," King Geoff advised, watching his young friend place the first block on his road to the throne.

_Can I actually do this? _Michael mused as he cautiously dragged his protesting body towards the underground chamber. _Can I take Geoff's place? _He had less of a desire to lead than anyone would have guessed and he also revered the drinking, laughing, boisterous King that he served. Sliding a little on the uneven ground, he finally made it to the doorway that led to rest and recuperation. There was a deadened quality to his sense of victory that he didn't like.

_I can fight but I don't think I could rule for shit, _he admitted to himself, heaving the door open. _And I don't want to try. _

Despite his misgivings, Michael descended the stairway to recuperate in the enchanted bed for a moment before the next round of this insane tournament could commence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Fishing For Trouble**

The five would-be Kings were gathered once more at the base of Geoff's throne, awaiting his next demand. Mogar the Great had defended his reputation in battle and won himself a piece of the Tower. The mood was a little tense, given that some of the contestants had actually managed to bring each other to the point of death in the previous challenge. It was a testament to how far each man was prepared to go in order to be the victor and it had now sunk in just how high the stakes were in these battles. There was no room for error.

"On this next task, you're not allowed to injure each other to stop one another from completing the task," Geoff told them all. "It's simple. Create a pond in my arena, catch a fish, cook it and present the completed meal before me to win."

The men gathered all exchanged glances. King Geoff was an avid fisherman and memories from their past light-hearted jamborees clashed jarringly with this next task. But they were confident that they at least knew how to complete the challenge. It would take a bit of mining, a few resources, some clever crafting and just a tiny dash of luck and the next piece of the Tower would be theirs.

"Go!" Geoff commanded and at once Gavin and Ryan sprinted out the Iron Gates into the forest just beyond. In the afternoon's lull the air began to grow icier; the dangers of night were closing in on them with alarming haste. If they were to have a good shot at this task unhindered by the monsters that crawled out after the sun had set they had to move quickly.

Gavin and Ryan met at the same mighty oak and began stripping it down for wood together, not really aware of what the other was doing. In seconds, Gavin somehow brought a branch crashing down on Ryan's head. The heavy timber's fall was painful, unexpected and caused Ryan to slump onto the ground for a few moments until his head cleared.

"What did you do that for?" he spat out at Gavin, who was grasping the wood in his arms and standing there, slack-jawed.

"I… We went for the same tree and I accidently… I didn't aim…" Gavin spluttered his explanation out as the man he had angered struggled back to his feet. "I'm sorry…"

Ryan tapped him half-heartedly with the timber Gavin had almost knocked him out with.

"Watch what you're doing," he sighed and set about turning his supplies into something he could craft into a fishing rod. Very quiet after the mishap, Gavin also resumed work, furtively checking around the tree that Ryan wasn't about to sneak up behind him and throttle him while he was occupied. But patient and methodical Ryan was too engrossed in finding string to bother with someone he thought he could outdo anyway.

Michael waltzed past Gavin, a brand new axe slung over one shoulder. He spied Ray strolling over a hill in the distance and judged that from the direction he was headed somewhere near the Town Square.

_Why the hell would he go that way? Everyone knows the ground under the town had been stripped of anything useful._

"Where do you think Ray's headed off to?" he asked Gavin.

"Ah… Bollocks, I need a bucket don't I?" Gavin cursed, too engrossed with the challenge to care what Ray might have been up to. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, unintentionally slicking it into new and stranger angles.

"Yeah," Michael assured him. "Iron. Melt it down. Make a bucket."

And with that, Mogar started off over the hill, down to where he knew he could find an entrance to mine iron in one of the veins of the kingdom that led straight down into its deep heart of bedrock. Gavin soon found himself alone as Ryan tied his supplies together and hoisted them up onto a pack on his back and travelled for parts unknown.

_Better get a bloody move on with this bucket then, _he supposed, before shaping himself an axe and splitting his wood into smaller fragments to be used as torches later.

Meanwhile, Jack was chipping away underneath the surface, mining for materials. After several minutes' hard labour he found what he needed – a rich supply of coal and enough iron to form a small bucket. Carefully he cut down the coal and stuffed it into his coat, blackening his fingers with its sooty remnants. Then he hacked away until the iron dropped from the ceiling of the mine in one greyish lump, perfect for his purposes. Into the furnace it went; he stoked the flames higher and in the garish light he went to work on the bellows, hastening the process. He wondered who else was down with him in the bowels of their kingdom, also working away with precious minerals.

Unbeknownst to Gavin, Michael's search for resources landed him in the very same stretch of mine that Gavin was exploring. Setting torches high on the cavern walls, Gavin didn't notice the stealthy footsteps that dogged his movements. He simply set a furnace in one corner and began hacking away with his axe, hoping he'd come across what was needed. He wasn't very far under the surface at all; the ground should have been rich with the stuff he required. As he progressed further and further into the new cave he was creating with his efforts, the illumination he'd set upon the walls grew further away and the shadows lengthened. It became harder to view the wall right in front of his face and the temperature plummeted as he moved further from the warmth of the fiery torches. Soon, Gavin couldn't really see and he was shivering almost uncontrollably. He set his axe down for a moment and began lighting a new torch.

At that moment, Michael struck. As quietly as possible in the echoing space of the cavernous mine, Michael stacked cobblestone up behind Gavin, cutting him off from his furnace and the exit to the surface. It only took a moment and three mighty heaves before the corridor resembled an untouched wall in the dim light. Cackling quietly at the panic this would cause Gavin even if he was lucky enough to come across iron, Michael moved on in a different direction the labyrinth-like mine.

Far from the escapades of the others underground, Ryan had formed a useable bucket incredibly quickly. But his search had taken him a considerable distance from the arena and the orange tint of sunset was beginning to spread across the sky overhead; he was starting to get nervous. Although he had a reputation for controlling wildlife there were worse things that stalked through Achievement City once night fell. Rotten corpses that rose and walked the land in search of flesh to devour, the cursed bones of fallen warriors that took to arms once more to slay anyone who approached their territory, venomous spiders the size of wolves, Creepers that could take your face off if you got too close to them and other things… Malicious beings that were like ghouls, hungry for the blood of any living thing they would find. He did not want to fight his way back through a horde of monsters. The thought gave his legs new life and he quickened his pace.

Ray, many miles inland, also felt the dread of the night but he had come to the conclusion that fishing was not his forte and was instead collecting supplies to survive the night ahead. Within the forest there were many resources that could be used to forge weapons, animals to be hunted for food and other useful items that Ray was sure would give him the edge in following challenges. His mining had borne enough raw materials for a sword and with it in hand, Ray felt more confident. The brawl had been an embarrassment. With this blade he would not be slaughtered again in a hurry.

Night came over the land quickly, as a tide upon the kingdom. But whereas the villagers firmly bolted and shuttered their dwellings against the beasts that roamed wild and dangerous, the five competitors merely went on with their tasks. Gavin had finally discovered both a depository of iron and Michael's trick and had proceeded to tear down the fake wall with his axe, shaking his head at the lame prank.

Back at the arena Geoff noticed Jack creep back in through the Iron Gate, a bucket full of water teeming with sea-life under one arm and a shovel under the other. He grinned down at his friend. Jack noticed the hint of his liege's stubble was finally coming back, darkening his fair face. Time moved so swiftly. Jack returned the grin, even if his was more strained than that of his King's, before hurrying onward. He set his things down a little behind the throne and got to work shovelling to create a small pond before anyone else returned.

Ryan was meanwhile fighting off creatures that were slowing his long, arduous trek back to the throne. An enormous spider sprung out from behind a tree and Ryan almost casually splattered it to pieces with his axe. From amidst the carcass he found some string and hefted it into his pack. Leaving spider guts in his wake, he shouldered his goods once more and resumed his extremely long hike, mindful of the other beings that haunted the darkness.

In the dead of the night the five men moved gingerly, hindered by the cold, the creatures and by the blackness itself. Michael managed to create an iron bucket, working by the illumination of his furnace by the sea. He tacked line to his fishing rod as he listened to the roll of the waves, somewhere close by in the gloom. It was a peaceful, lulling sound but he could not afford to sleep. Luckily, the cruel bite of the freezing wind that rolled off the ocean kept him alert. His bearskin saved him from the worst of the elements.

Also working by the flickering light of his furnace was Gavin, still underground. Every now and again he would have to take up his sword to cut down the zombies, skeleton archers and other monsters that assailed him. He would be glad of daylight when he reached the surface again.

Ray merely cooked himself a steak and curled up under a naturally formed cave, wary of any dangers that might try to attack him in the night, be they unnatural or in the form of his competitors.

Geoff woke the next morning extremely early and rose from his bed to a comical sight. Jack was hidden away in a back corner of the arena, attempting to put his fishing rod into a small pond he'd stealthily managed to construct. Ryan had filled an entire hand-made chest with tools and resources, which he was protecting ferociously near his obsidian marker.

Michael and Gavin however, were the main source of the King's amusement. Michael had painstakingly dug a slither of a crack in the ground and filled it with water from the ocean but every time Michael attempted to refill his bucket with more water, Gavin would carefully scamper out of hiding and bail the water already in the hole out with his own bucket. The water level was next to nothing by the time Michael returned each time. Mogar huffed back and forth between the arena and the water source, convinced the water was just draining out of its own accord. Geoff had to cackle; Mogar's exacerbation was hilariously funny.

Ryan took the opportunity to scowl at Gavin and when the young man backed away, chastened, he cast his line into the tiny pool of water for a fish. Michael returned to find him waiting patiently for a bite.

"Son of a bitch," Michael swore, casting his own line. "I bet you can't get a catch out of that."

"We'll see," Ryan smiled.

Jack, unbeknownst to everyone save for his King, was also patiently fishing into a larger, custom-built pond behind the throne. He enjoyed the steady patience fishing required. He had accepted that it was now out of his hands; only luck would determine which one of them would be the winner now.

Gavin watched Michael and Ryan's attempts avidly, having already given up the challenge. Ryan's line bobbed and weaved after a while and Gavin cried out joyously.

"He's got one, he's got a fish!" he exclaimed, like a five-year-old. Ryan pulled it out with a flourish and hastened to his furnace. In moments smoke and the delicious salty scent of frying fish filled the arena. Michael silently willed the line to move but his rod sat there idly. He heard Ryan turning the meat over and gave up, yanking his carefully crafted rod from his tiny pond with resignation.

"My King, may I present to you your meal," Ryan stated, sliding the perfectly cooked white meat from his furnace. On a small plate he knelt before Geoff's throne and presented the object of the challenge to him. Behind the throne, Jack sighed and watched his own fish steadily cooking in his furnace. Too slow, but he'd been close. Luck, as always, determined the victor of any sort of fishing.

King Geoff ate the fish with relish and presented a small segment of the Tower to Ryan. As he took it from his lord, Ryan seemed outwardly relaxed and placed it on his obsidian stand without any comment. But inside, he was gleeful. He had matched Mogar. He was still in this tournament and if he could continue, he would be the one atop that glorious monument in just a few more rounds.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: The Rattle of Bones**

The hastily constructed ponds were filled in with silt and Ryan smothered the fire in his furnace. When these little chores were complete, the contestants within the arena waited as Ray returned overland, hauling his considerable loot from the previous round behind him. The King peered down at them all and issued his next demands as he spotted the suave young man stroll through his Iron Gates. All five were back and ready for the next round.

"Night will fall again soon," he murmured, watching the clouds roll across the sky. "And a King must prove his ability to repel the things that come with the darkness. One of you must present six bones to me as soon as possible from the skeleton archers that roam at night. You will win a piece of the Tower."

As he had been giving instructions, the King noticed Gavin in one corner of the arena, laying down bricks against one stone wall. He was creating a back entrance for himself. His foreknowledge of the task had given him a slight advantage but Geoff didn't think to draw attention to this. His adopted child had yet to gain even a single golden cube for his Tower. He needed all of the help he could get, in Geoff's opinion.

"You may use any force necessary to achieve your goal," Geoff continued. "You may forge any weapons you think you'll need. Now, go!"

Their task now apparent, the five men went their separate ways. Gavin was up and over the wall of the arena in seconds thanks to his new hidden stairway. He drew a sword from his pack and pelted off into the forest, becoming lost in the greenery in instants. Ryan simply went to the chest he'd constructed and foraged through it, gathering provisions. Likewise, Ray hoisted his bag higher on his back, fixed up his suit with some armour and walked out of the Iron Gate at a leisurely pace. Mogar had disappeared; perhaps following his friend Gavin over the wall.

Jack approached the throne hesitantly, a concerned look on his features.

"Aren't you going to take off, too?" King Geoff asked, high atop his seat of power.

"My liege, I've been thinking…" Jack's deep voice rumbled out of his chest, slow and haltering, full of doubt. "I just wanted to say that… Well, we all started these games without saying that we're not happy things have come to this…"

Geoff didn't want to hear it. "It's alright," he told Jack firmly. "It's no one's fault. This is the way things are meant to go, that's all."

His friend understood that this was a dismissal but still Jack tried to come up with something that would convince Geoff that although they were competing they didn't think they had the right to take his crown from him. He met Geoff's gaze and decided to let it go, for now.

"I will return with your six bones," Jack said, trying to put some confidence into his voice. He clapped his blue helmet onto his head and shrugged his pack on, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

_More killing, thievery… Hidden horrors in the shadows… _Jack shuddered at what he thought was to come. Noticing that the throne's shadow was growing longer as he stood there he shook the repulsions from his mind and hastened out of the Iron Gate, leaving Geoff to his own ruminations.

Ray was retracing his footsteps, travelling back towards Achievement City. The enchanted archers were known to rise on ancient battlefields or where people gathered in large and tempting quantities. They had an endless supply of arrows and their bows never snapped from overuse. Finding six and stealing a bone from each wasn't going to be simple but Ray was certain he could manage it. Unaware of Ryan following him at a careful distance Ray forged on, determined to seek the dank, mould-ridden places where his foes were known to roam.

Gavin had immediately made his way underground and although it was a sensible place to find skeleton archers he was quickly becoming paranoid. Every trickle of water sounded like an archer putting arrow to string; Gavin crept along tensely, his sword held prone in front of him. Very soon he would have to consider lighting torches as the daylight fell further from where he stood. Moaning cries rose from the bowels of the mine - a cacophony of dungeon clamours and the natural resonances of the mine warping along the winding corridors of the pit. Sweating, creeping along terribly slowly, Gavin let the sounds guide his progress further down the rocky path.

Dusk became night rapidly, especially for those like Gavin and Jack who sought creatures underground. Overhead, the beasts and monsters had emerged at last. From behind the cover of a hill Ray finally spotted his first skeleton archer which was stumbling, creaking and clinking with the rattle of its bare bones towards the seashore. He ducked and sprinted towards its unprotected back. One swing and the archer lost its precious bow. The creature swung around, the sightless holes in its skull glowing faintly, rotten teeth emitting a putrid stench. But it was too late to defend itself. Ray slashed his blade through its empty ribcage and separated its spine from the rest of its bones. The monster fell apart, unable to hold itself up and Ray seized a femur as it disintegrated into ash, just as the rest of its body had decomposed long ago. Breathing heavily, trying to spit the taste of decay from his mouth, Ray also tucked the skeleton's discarded arrows into his pack. They could come in handy later on…

Ray screamed as a sword suddenly burst from his chest, coated in his own blood. Shock and the sudden tormenting malady overwhelmed him. His pack fell to the ground and the next moment he awoke in a comfortable, cosy bed underground. He had been transported back to the arena. Someone had murdered him and taken his prize. Silently seething, Ray stormed up the staircase and back into the arena. There was only one individual he knew could take a life like that. Not Mogar, all bold and triumphant. He would never just creep up and stab like that, he'd want to duel properly with his opponent. Jack could never be so cowardly. Gavin wouldn't have been able to be so stealthy and cunning. There was only one answer - the Prince of Beasts had tracked him and stolen his precious bone for himself.

Ryan was indeed kneeling on the grass, pushing through the items in Ray's pack, unaware that the arena was only metres from where he was crouched. He hadn't bothered to clean his sword of Ray's remains; it was discarded next to him, where Ray had fallen. He shifted through meats and ropes, wool and armour, trying to find the precious bone he sought. He had one already tied to his belt from a skeleton he'd encountered earlier.

Finally his fingers closed on something smooth and elongated – the white bone of a skeleton archer. Triumphant, Ryan leant back and cupped the prize in his palms. Two down, four to go…

Blinding pain; agony simply seared through him. Ryan gasped once as his neck was severed and the next second the bone at his hip was gone and the one in his hands had vanished. He flailed wildly before realising he was tangled in nothing more than sheets, back in his bed under the arena.

Ray watched as the blood of the man who had stabbed him in the back congealed on his sword along with his own. With so much gore on the blade, it was likely that it would permanently stain. Ray recovered his stolen pack and hefted the two bones now in his possession into his pocket. His sword was now eternally red – the colour of Ryan's blood and his blood had mixed together and dripped down the entire length of it. It was a fitting match – the red rose warrior and the Red Blade. And he had not allowed that villain to take what was his.

Ray grinned and sheathed his newfound weapon. It held a special value for him now. With any luck, it would make an impressive King's blade, one that would be the same shade of the roses that would adorn his throne someday.

Meanwhile, Gavin was quaking with suppressed fear underground. He had actually managed to slay three skeleton archers and take their bones but his paranoia was affecting his ability to keep moving forward into the pitch-black darkness in search of more. He was setting more torches than was necessary on the walls of the cavern in any effort to calm himself down but still the thoughts pervaded, weakening his courage. What if the rumours were true about the Arachnawolf, the great eight-legged wolf of folklore? What if it wasn't just a story and suddenly appeared before him, teeth gleaming with foam, growling with menace, its bloodthirsty eyes trained on his own? What use was an iron sword in the face of something like that? Gavin swallowed painfully and tried to stop his shaking limbs.

Geoff watched the moon with passive eyes. He'd expected this task to only take a short amount of time but no one had returned so far. His fingers tapped the throne impatiently. It was not in his nature to simply sit idly by without ale at hand while others went exploring the wider world. Sighing and grumbling, he lifted himself off his throne and waltzed down the golden steps. He would venture a little way beyond the arena and see if there was anyone nearby. He would make sure that the skeleton archers were in good supply for his challenge.

Gently, Geoff lifted himself into the air and sailed high above the arena walls. From this height he could spot where Gavin had added his own fortifications for a quick back entrance to the arena if he needed it. Geoff smiled a little at that. Flying just above the canopy of the trees he could feel the breeze of the night wash over him and managed to glimpse Ryan slipping closer to the arena. He didn't appear to have much on him; the King doubted he was walking back in order to win the challenge. Geoff heard water and shouts from just beyond the forest and willed himself forward, skipping effortlessly through the sky like a bird.

About a kilometre away Geoff found the source of the commotion. Michael and Jack were wading through the shallows in pursuit of a skeleton archer who was fighting back gamely. Even from a height Geoff could spot the arrow lodged in Jack's shoulder and the spots of bright crimson on Mogar's legs. The archer was walking further out into deeper water, its rattling legs slowing as the resistance of the river impeded its progress.

It was all the advantage Jack needed. Yelling, he threw his blade right into the skull of the monster, where it lodged comically for a few seconds before the thing disintegrated. No bone was left behind and the rushing waters carried any trace of the dead creature away in seconds.

Jack slapped the surface of the water with one hand in frustration. Mogar's gaze shifted to the now defenceless Jack and he lifted his sword higher. Geoff watched with dismay as Mogar slaughtered Jack and stole the one bone his friend had collected. The water grew pink for a moment before Jack's enchantment took effect and he vanished. Some of his belongings sunk underwater and Michael bent to retrieve them, no doubt searching for more bones.

The sight did not sicken Geoff but it did make him feel a deepening sorrow for the way things had been. In the past their games had been only that, games, full of laughter and good humour. There had been little serious competition at all, indeed there had been several bouts where they had dissolved into so much merriment that the game had evolved into some other stupid joke, such as how long Gavin could stand their teasing before he cracked. Once, Gavin had sworn he'd seen a female deer in the middle of a storm and named it a 'Tornadoe,' causing them all to fall to the floor in hysterical fits of laughter, abandoning whatever project they'd been toiling over at the time. Politics and external pressures had taken the fun out of everything. Responsibilities they had were overriding their friendships, the growing want for power overruling their better natures.

Geoff shook these heavy thoughts away with impatience. Achievement City wanted a new king, didn't it? Well, so be it, at least for a time. With all the negative feedback from his villagers, Geoff believed that anybody would serve better than he in the near future.

"While I'm gone, brown sheep," Geoff muttered from in the sky to a peacefully grazing sheep that had wandered past on the hilly fields miles below his feet. "_You _can be in charge. Even you'd do a better job at remaining popular than me."

The sheep munched its meal, totally unaware that it was being offered a spot in the monarchy. Geoff snorted in dismay at the terrible lame joke and moved on.

Meanwhile in the arena Ryan had come across a wolf and was lightly patting its enormous shaggy head. The great grey-flecked beast was nuzzling its snout against his leg, warming to its new master. He fed it a chunk of steak and it snapped the treat down greedily.

"Now, shall we hunt for some bones?" Ryan crooned at his new companion. The wolf's ears flattened back against its head and it sniffed the air expectantly. With his new hunting aide, the Prince of Beasts strode back into the darkness.

Gavin emerged from the mines close to the arena and at his belt were three prized bones. The wolf locked onto his scent and snuffled eagerly. Ryan let it run along ahead and heard Gavin's shriek of terror as his new friend attacked. There was a moment of growling, screaming and then Ryan cut through the tree line. He found his wolf sniffing the grass, a backpack full of minerals from deep within the mine and three bones, lying askew around an iron sword. Gavin was nowhere to be seen.

"Good boy," Ryan told the wolf. "That's a very good boy."

"For god's sake!" Gavin yelled, back in his bed as the sun rose. "Why's Ryan so creepy around animals? How does he get them to do what he wants?" There was no one to hear his outburst however and Gavin strode back out into the faint sunlight, furious that all his hard work beneath the ground had been for nothing.

"God damn. You'll pay for that, Ryan. I swear you will," he spat out, storming over to a little cache of supplies he'd hidden next to his secret passageway over the wall. "This challenge isn't over yet!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: The Race for Riches**

Ryan trod carefully around the perimeter of the arena, his gaze firmly locked on Gavin. Underneath his boots the stone was precarious and tangled with knotted vines. Gavin was beyond angry and had rashly taken after the man and wolf combo that had killed him with a vengeful heart. His newly forged diamond sword was absolutely steady in his hands.

"Throw back my bones," Gavin demanded. "Give me back what I need."

Ryan ran his nimble fingers over the three sleek bones tied in a line on his belt. His stolen goods would ensure him victory in this task. They were extremely precious.

"I'm watching you," Ryan warned him, keeping the wolf between his body and Gavin's sword as a precaution. "Are you going to stalk me?"

"I'm getting them back," Gavin replied firmly and then he leapt forward. With a two-handed swing he brought the sharp weapon down on the wolf's back and Ryan watched on in horror as Gavin butchered the animal. He scrambled along the wall of the arena - now without any means of defended his ill-gotten gains - trying to flee. Gavin stepped past the dead wolf after him, certain that he could catch the thief that had taken his riches. Momentarily the joking, joyful countenance Gavin usually had was utterly lost and replaced instead with a single-mindedness that was chilling to behold. Flecks of the wolf's pelt and blood tarnished his green boots. His eyes were huge with loathing and determination.

Ryan hurried away, rocketing past the trees in the forest, heedless of where he was racing to. His breathing sounded strained in his own ears. There was a stitch forming in his chest already. Behind him he could hear the noises of Gavin crashing through the underbrush after him. The younger competitor was faster and he positively spitting with fury. Ryan tried to sprint uphill and realised that there was simply no way to outrun his pursuer. What else could he do to trick his way out of this predicament?

Gavin caught up with Ryan and realised that the cunning Prince of Beasts was trying to hide the bones he'd stolen before Gavin could reclaim them. Fortunately, he'd run out of time to bury his load. Slaying Ryan where he was crouched on the earth took only the simplest swing of his blade and then Gavin had his hands back on his prize - three slender bones from the enchanted skeleton archers.

_I'm halfway to getting a piece of the Tower._

He hugged them closely for a moment and then thought about what to do. The hiding concept wasn't a bad one and if Ryan had been able to move faster he probably would have succeeded in keeping them to himself. Gavin took his pack off and shoved the three bones inside then, lightly covering the pack in dirt, he hid his treasures. To mark the location he placed a large square piece of wood he had in his pocket over the place. There. Now even if he was taken back the arena no one could steal what was his.

At that moment, Jack was deep underground and surrounded by the living dead. He'd heard snarling and groaning and followed the voices, convinced that there was a whole horde of skeleton archers nearby but instead, he'd stumbled into a cave full of zombies. The surroundings looked vaguely familiar but Jack paid no attention to the décor and instead devoted himself to slaughtering. By the feeble illumination of a single torch he swung about the mine, slicing zombies from all directions.

A few minutes later he was panting, surrounded by the shells of the undead but he was alive and unhurt. His sword had served him well. He was about to move on when in the periphery of his vision he swore he made out some structure shining with a strange glow. It sparked a memory in him, one that he couldn't quite grasp hold of. Intrigued, he dragged his pack off the stony floor where he had discarded it amidst the battle and tiptoed forward towards the source of the odd luminescence. Water dripped steadily close by, grating on his nerves.

_I do know this place, _Jack realised. _We've been here before to hide… something. What did we hide here?_

The purple on the stone shimmered and Jack recognised that it was a kind of light; some sorcerous light that was spilling into the mine and making everything that unnatural purplish hue. He came around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks, his pulse thudding incredibly loudly in his temple.

It was a Netherworld portal. Geoff had insisted that they hide it away from where the villagers could get at it, for it led to a hellish place full of abominations and strange materials not found naturally in this realm. The others had agreed to this sensible plan but they had also gone one step further. Rigged in the walls of the cavern were miles and miles of explosives, waiting to be triggered. Geoff had been concerned that one day a horde of terrible creatures from the Netherworld would discover the passageway and come teeming forth with an army of unimaginable proportions. He devised a means of burying the portal if such a prediction came to fruition. Tons and tons of explosives, ready to blow up at any second, had been sunk into the earth around the doorway. Jack trembled, hyperaware of the presence of so much incendiaries lying so close to him and his flint. One spark would be enough. Walking as though crossing broken glass Jack shirked away, praying nothing would set off the detonation before he could get to a safe distance.

King Geoff coasted on southerly winds, casting a broad gaze over the kingdom. He was nostalgic for the old days and every little sign of their previous tournaments resulted in tiny tug in his heart, a longing for things to be back the way they were. There were shears littered all over the ground in one particular spot miles below and Geoff remembered that they had made bets as to who could shear the most sheep with brightly coloured wool. The sight forcibly reminded him of Michael, his wide grin spreading across his face as he lifted a set of shears high into the air and clacked them about, Ryan muttering to the sheep to calm them, lanky Ray lazily sitting astride his sheep and making inappropriately sexual jokes and of Jack standing as tall as a bear guffawing helplessly at Gavin who appeared to be wrestling with his sheep. They'd drunk far too much and sang and run about crazily after sheep that day; Geoff grinned to himself. The memory was sweet but was quickly tainted with the knowledge that right now, his friends were busily murdering each other to steal his birthright. His smile became a grimace as the flavour of his recollections turned bitter.

Funnily enough, Jack was also reminiscing about that day but for quite a different reason. He'd crawled carefully out of the mine to find he'd landed himself next to the large pond to the east of Achievement City. Bizarrely, swimming in the water was a shorn sheep, bleating loudly in a frenzied panic. Jack thoughtfully laid down a plank of wood for the stricken animal, which struggled to shore, shivering.

"Has Ryan been here?" Jack asked aloud. "What the fuck?"

The sheep merely looked at him, doleful eyes blank and then moved on in search of greener pastures. Jack chuckled a little to himself, tugged the end of his beard and decided that he too, should get moving.

Closer to the great forest Michael was apocalyptic with frustration; he'd waded through the broken segments of so many skeleton archers that he's lost count and he only had single bone for his troubles. He spat out a deluge of foul-tongue vehemence and stalked through the woodland. His armour was rubbing and creating blisters on the back of his calves. He gritted his teeth and hobbled through the discomfort, senses alert for any sign of another archer.

In the sky, he heard a familiar sound. Geoff was hovering somewhere above his head, looking on. That made him feel worse, somehow, knowing that Geoff was witnessing his failure. He watched the armour-clad King descend from the sky like some sort of mythical hero, his sword at his side and alight before Mogar in a tiny opening in the forest.

"Nice work missing the trees there, Geoff," Michael tried to make light of the situation.

"How're you going buddy?"

"Shit. I can't get any bones off these things!"

King Geoff just gave a little half-smile and pointed through the dense trees.

"Head that way and try your luck," he told Mogar, drifting back into the darkening skies, his advice delivered. Michael was not about to ignore such a generous tip and without even a thank you to his liege he pounded off and was lost in the thick forestry.

"Geoff!"

King Geoff landed heavily on the ground again and searched through the canopy. He knew that voice. He found who he expected to find not metres from where he stood.

"Gavin?"

"Geoff, why are you giving him hints?" His adopted son appeared, dropping nimbly from a tree where he'd been hiding as soon as he'd heard Mogar headed his way. His voice was soft with the startled tone of unexpected betrayal. "Is he your favourite here? Do you want him to succeed you?"

"Gavin…"

"I'd be a much better King than he would!" Gavin claimed, that hurt still evident in his voice. His dark eyes, typically so full of youthful happiness, were miserable.

"It's not like that," Geoff told him assuredly. "I don't have a favourite in this competition at all. He's just been really unlucky to have killed so many archers and not to have got the bones he needs. I thought he deserved a hint, just this once. It's been seriously frustrating to watch, that's all. You're doing fine on your own."

Gavin's mouth twisted with indecision and he touched the blade at his side, as though it would redeem some of his confidence.

"I'm close to winning this round," he whispered to Geoff. "I'll be back at the arena soon."

Without taking another second to see how this news effected his King and adopted father, Gavin turned resolutely in the opposite direction to the one Michael had taken and trudged off. Further in the forest where Geoff couldn't see him he hugged himself a little, trying to ignore what he'd witnessed and the lame explanation for it.

_Michael would be a good King though, _his more reasonable side argued. _I could help him shape the kingdom. We're buddies. He's my boy. We could be unstoppable together._

But a tiny part of him still held to that irresistible visage of himself seated on that throne, wearing that crown and plotting bigger and better things for the land. And that small, nagging image wouldn't let him go. Hope was a powerful thing, Gavin had discovered. The more he dwelled on that perfect picture of victory, the more he wanted it.

He stopped as he heard grunting. Someone was nearby, getting closer. He scurried up a tree quickly and stopped, lying still against a thick branch as he heard the movements of his competitor slow too.

Jack had been collecting another bone when he heard the tree branches scratching and shuffling somewhere close by. His instincts warned him of incoming peril and he stashed his bone deep inside his pack, moving in a careful circle, waiting for the danger to reveal itself.

_Who is it? What is it?_

A crackling high-pitch noise met his ears and he backpedalled desperately. There was a Creeper nearby! The sizzling, hissing sound like meat on a spit seemed to consume the air all around him and Jack flailed, desperately searching for the source of that terrifying noise…

BANG!

The Creeper enveloped the area as it kamikaze-style murdered Jack and he vanished along with the Creeper's remains. Coughing, wiping a hand through the white smoke that remained, Gavin swung down from his hiding spot and admired his good fortune. Amongst the burnt and destroyed ground and the remains of obliterated foliage lay three white bones.

He had them. By some miracle he had all six bones required to win the piece of the Tower. Gavin cradled them gleefully to his chest and laughed, whooping at the sky. Tucking the femurs under his arm he leapt off, almost skipping with joy, navigating the forest as surely as if he'd had a map right in front of his eyes. All he had to do was retrieve his hidden bones and get back to the arena with them all and he'd won the round!

But he became lax in his stealth and paid the price. Michael heard his laughter and guessed that he'd somehow completed the challenge. That Gavin of all people could thwart him by sneaking around after bones vexed him sorely. Sword in hand he took off after his friend.

Jack, who woke up underground at the arena, was seriously upset. That stupid Creeper! But hope was not entirely lost yet. He just had to find someone with a lot of collected bones and he could conceivably make up the ground he had lost. He ran out of the Iron Gates with nothing but a stone sword, stumpy and blackened from its hasty creation in a furnace.

Ryan too heard Gavin's delighted rejoicing in the forest. He had been following Ray's tracks for a good long while but the elation he heard changed his mind considerably. Gavin had six bones by the sounds of it… He changed his target gladly, sensing that the young man had let down his guard.

Gavin retrieved his three hidden bones and tied all of his riches in his dirt-filled pack. It was only when he was shouldering his pack and getting his bearings that he realised he was not alone in this part of the woods.

Michael emerged first and shrieking, Gavin sprinted away in the wrong direction in a panic. The ground pounded beneath his feet as he wildly threw his body left and right, seeking nothing but to escape the men following him. Now he could hear Ryan and Jack, bounding after the two of them. He was so close!

Mogar was mere steps behind him and in a desperate attempt to stop Gavin he sliced at his back. The sword punctured Gavin's pack at one corner. Realising his precious bones were about to fall Gavin fought back with his own uppercut, slashing at Mogar's face. The diamond sword connected. Michael howled through the bloody mess of his face and fell, disappearing.

With the two men still on his tail Gavin jumped downwards, rolling head over heels into a cave that was really more of an overhanging piece of land than a proper hiding spot. He slid, slipping in loose dirt for what seemed like forever; the rattling and tearing of the ground past his ears roared and stung furiously at his exposed skin. When he finally came to a stop he coughed, grabbed his pack in both arms and loped into the back of the cave desperately seeking shelter.

Ryan and Jack had an odd dummy-off above where they'd watched Gavin tumble. Neither man wanted to expose his back to the other but both wanted the bones. Ryan opted to move away and let Jack skid down the dirt pile, tracing the same fall line as Gavin but with much more control.

Ryan had another idea. He only needed two bones and he thought he knew where he could pick them up off the ground. He began leaning down, peering through bushes, trying to find a blood trail. Michael's body would have left its remains somewhere close by…

Jack made it to the base of the cave and witnessed Gavin tucked up in the back, his armed wrapped protectively around his bones.

"Please, don't try to get them," Gavin begged. "Please, Jack."

Although he didn't hesitate as he closed in on Gavin and swung a defensive attack to meet his foe's diamond blade, Jack experienced a curious sensation of despondency at the pathetic sight of the young man crouched in the cave.

_So this is what we've come to - hiding, quaking, in holes in the earth. The so-called mighty heroes of Achievement City shaking in our boots at the sight of our friends. _

But Jack did what he had to and slew the much weaker and injured Gavin. With a stone sword lodged in his chest Gavin only burbled blood for a second, wretched defeat in his dying eyes, before he disappeared. Jack took the leftover pack and cautiously hauled himself back up the slippery slope they had fallen down.

Ryan had located Mogar's discarded bones and the race was on. Navigating in the forest could be devilishly tricky but thankfully Geoff had built his monument so toweringly high and in such a glittering metal that it could be seen from miles in every direction. Ryan crashed through undergrowth, batting tree branches aside, ignoring the agony in his joints. He ran the edge of the renowned Altar that they had all constructed together that was eternally coated in snow, no matter the season or the weather elsewhere in the area. Jack, filthy and slicked with blood and sweat, pushed himself onwards relentlessly. However, he still lost to the resourceful Prince of Beasts, who called out loudly to the King mere moments before he could enter through the Iron Gates.

"My liege, the bones you required!"

King Geoff had been waiting on his throne. He descended the stairs just as Jack entered and handed over the next piece of the revered Tower.

"Damn it," Jack cursed and then he leant over, trying not to vomit on his own shoes. The exertion of that prolonged run, slide and trek back up the steep slope had seriously taken its toll.

Ryan, exultant, secured the second golden block to his Tower and proceeded downstairs to their quarters with sincere relief. He would enjoy the chance to rest a while before the next challenge.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: A Part of History Forever**

The five competitors for the throne of Achievement City were decidedly worse for wear having completed the quest for six bones. Tensions were mounting in the arena space and there were some nasty looks at Ryan's monument, which now sported two out of the four necessary gold blocks on his obsidian podium.

King Geoff did nothing to address the antagonism and dismay building amongst his subjects. The next challenge had to be set. They had to see this tournament through to its conclusion.

"The next task is easy. Write your name on a wooden sign and place it at the very pinnacle of the snow-capped Altar just west of here. I will be waiting for the winner of this race there to see them hammer it into the stone with my own eyes. When you hear the clanging of my sword against metal, someone has completed the challenge. Off you go!"

Geoff lifted himself into the air and elevated until he was out of their sight, soaring above the clouds. He knew every inch of his kingdom and once he was sure his direction wouldn't be spotted he flew off towards the icy Altar. Only those who were fast and sure would be able to find the structure deep within the heart of his kingdom and successfully beat the others to the top. It was taller than any mountain, enchanted with eternal snow and completed built of smooth stone so the trek was dicey, hazardous and horrible for the unprepared. It could be beautiful, he supposed, but mainly the Altar was an icon of the unattainable, something that reigned supreme above the ordinary and the insignificant, a symbol of intimidation in Achievement City. It had a sort of hypnotising allure to it - all that swirling snow and dark stone - lost in a dreamy and impossible climate that nothing could ever alter.

His friends immediately took to the forest and collected hardwood for their signs. Ryan tacked a huge stake to his and sharpened the end to a deadly point with his knife. Gavin tied his together poorly but hurriedly scratched his name into the timber and sped off in the correct direction. He knew where his adopted father's sacred Altar was like he knew the back of his own hand.

Michael and Ray however had barely constructed their own signs before getting hopelessly, horrendously lost.

"You know where the Altar is?" Michael asked his friend, nothing but laughter in his voice.

"I didn't even know where the arena was until Geoff directed us to it!" Ray responded. "I've got no idea."

Mogar scratched his name idly into the wood, splinters flicking out under the movements of his sword.

"Are you gonna hike around until you find it?" he asked Ray.

The other man looked down at his feet. They were standing in a gloomy part of the wood but he could see shards of sunlight poking through, like grasping fingers, where there was a clearing nearby. The sounds of birds and insects hummed in his ears. Underneath his boots the grass was damp with dew and the smell of it reminded him of honeysuckle – crisp and sweet. In the arena where the four walls were iron and unforgiving stone, when you were staring at the expanse of Geoff's throne of all that gold and red finery, it was easy to forget that there was more to Achievement City than just supremacy. Ray liked it here in the quiet peace of the woodland. He decided that he needed a new rose for his lapel.

"Nah," he drew out the word for a good long while and straightened his perfectly white gloves. "I'm good."

With that, he wandered over to the clearing with no other intention then to sit and slumber in the sunlight, maybe to find a fresh rose. He had his sword at his side, shining red, in case anything decided to bother him. Mogar hissed out a vulgar word and trudged off, hoping that luck would prevail and he might find some indication of where the Altar was.

At that moment, Ryan had reached the Altar and was breathing heavily, huffing out a thin stream of mist in the sudden unnatural iciness. It loomed over him, impossibly high and coated in white snow on every layer. He couldn't even see the summit from the ground but he guessed that somewhere up there Geoff was waiting patiently. Flying would definitely be the safest way to do what he was about to attempt. Pulling his collar up against the tempest, Ryan sank a boot into the first layer of snow and began the lengthy climb.

Gavin had also reached the treacherous base of the Altar.

"Sausages and beans and bacon!" His ridiculous swearing made the challenge no less difficult or the freezing winds any less chilly. Gavin kicked at the snowdrift nearest to him and found that it was surprisingly solid. Stone – that's what they'd created the Altar from. Layers and layers of cobblestone packed together like a vast Mesoamerican pyramid into heaven. Why they'd bothered with the eternal winter enchantment he'd never know… Cursing with a variety of odd phrases, Gavin tucked his jacket closer to his body and stepped up, gingerly testing every step with the long pillar of his sign.

Jack had finished his sign and was wondering towards the Altar hesitantly. He wasn't quite sure of where it lay but he was using his head and following the air currents – nearer to the Altar the temperature dropped dramatically so it only made sense to go in the coldest direction. He held his hand up and felt the play of the air across his bare skin. He must be close; goosebumps erupted up and down his arm. If only the forest was easier to peer through! If only he had a map! He walked on, following the cold winds, waiting for that moment where the trees would clear and he would confront the Altar itself.

Half an hour later and he had found what he was searching for but by that time Ryan was halfway up the icy slope, shivering violently but still making steady progress. Gavin was a way behind him but because they climbed on different sides of the Altar they were each completely ignorant of each other's ascent. Jack jumped up the first layer, convinced he was the only one yet to start scaling the Altar's formidable sides. Throwing caution to the winds he pushed his helmet onto his head firmly and slogged over the sleet, hauling his sign behind him.

But it was Ryan who was the closest and although he hadn't fallen back once he was slowing down. Snow was in his blurring his vision, flying into his mouth, burning the skin on his face and draining his fortitude with every step. If anyone had been able to see him they would have been horrified at the pale pallor of his cheeks. He looked like he'd become frozen to the side of the mountainous Altar. His teeth chattered annoyingly but there was nothing he could do to stop that. The fleece he was wearing kept his chest warm at least, even if everything else felt like it could drop off at any second. Snowflakes accumulated in his blonde hair, coating his head in whiteness. His sign seemed to weigh a million tons and it was just a piece of wood. But by god, he was not giving up. It became a strange sort of dreamy mantra in his head that fuelled his every step: _I won't give up, I won't give up, I won't give up, I won't give up…_

His nearest foe, Gavin, was in all sorts of trouble. Twice he had almost catapulted to his death when the snow had dropped away from under his feet and he was forced to wildly throw his hands in search of holds to stop himself from plummeting. Only dumb luck had aided him on those occasions. A few times he'd skated backwards on a patch of watery slush, almost toppling headfirst down the icy slope only to recover his balance at the very last second.

"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, why am I doing this?" He kept up a constant litany to himself, gasping in the freezing air and spitting out chunks of ice. "Why? Oh god, why? How high is this bloody thing?"

_I should have brought an axe, that's what I should have done. _Gavin's thoughts were a tumble of regrets and misery. _An axe or rope or something to make this a safer climb. Some warmer clothes! Some boots with more grip! Anything!_

Michael had headed in the completely wrong direction and had stumbled into the Town Square. Ray had no intention of completing the dangerous hike. Jack was a quarter of the way up but his endurance was not good in the horrible weather. Geoff could see everything from the summit and it was fairly apparent that if Ryan kept going he had this one fairly comfortably. Gavin was barely keeping his distance behind him.

At long last Ryan reached the highest godforsaken point of the Altar, pink with cold and covered in a thin layer of sticky snow. Geoff watched him arise with the last of his strength and plunge his marked sign into the tiny point that was the very top. His boots slid out beneath him and Ryan plunged all his weight into the stake that held his sign, sinking it into the snow before falling to the ground himself, utterly spent. His breathing was a horrible rattling sound. Geoff took his friend's head gently in his gauntleted hands.

"You did it," he told Ryan. "You made it all this way. That sign will be a part of history and lore forever and I'll make sure no one ever takes it down. It's going to stay here for all time." He unsheathed his sword and kindly took Ryan's head off with a mighty swing. Smiling faintly, Ryan disappeared. He would be back in the warm comfort of their quarters in moments, rested and refreshed.

King Geoff beat his sword against steel and a great rhythmic clanging echoed all throughout the land, magically amplified. Michael heard it in the Town Square and sighed in relief that his search was over. Ray listened to it and stood up languidly, ready to return to the arena.

On the Altar itself Gavin bit back tears of frustration. He'd been so close! He let his sign fall from his frozen fingers and slide away from him, into a snowdrift. It was quickly buried in new slush. He peered down at where he'd come from, considering just rolling back down from where he'd come. But there was a faster option.

"Geoff! Geoff!"

Gavin's cries reached him; he'd managed to climb very close to the pinnacle of the Altar. Geoff stepped downwards towards his adopted son.

"Yeah?"

"Help me get off this mountain?" his adopted son asked, gasping.

Geoff had to dig the young man's legs from within the snowfall but after a moment he yanked him out enough to get his arms around him and tug him free. Hanging on with the last bit of his strength, Gavin slid himself onto his adopted father's back and the two of them lifted into the sky. Sighing with tiredness, Gavin let his head loll onto Geoff's shoulder and they flew down the side of the Altar slowly, so that Geoff's tight grip wouldn't come loose from Gavin's legs. Near the base, the King noted that Jack had walked back to the ground and was tenuously hiking back towards the arena.

They made a strange sight, hovering back and landing in the arena. Geoff carried the stricken Gavin to his quarters and laid him almost tenderly in a bed. He tucked the young man in and left him to recover alone underground. Already some colour was coming back into his son's cheeks but Gavin didn't stir at all at Geoff's touch. He was completely exhausted after his strenuous haul up the icy Altar.

When the King reached the surface once more Ryan was waiting and Geoff produced the agreed golden block from his wooden chest on the throne.

"A third victory," Geoff acknowledged, dropping the block into Ryan's arms. "You're very close now."

Jack stumbled back through the Iron Gate just in time to witness Ryan add the cube of precious metal to his almost completed Tower. He mumbled something like "I thought it would be you," before hauling his griping body downstairs to get some much-needed recuperation.

_This competition could be over after one more challenge, _Geoff mused, watching Ryan stare happily at his Tower in comparison to the other competitors'. _Ryan could be the next King._

He didn't consider why that notion produced such dread in him for a moment. Fate would choose the next King of Achievement City no matter what he thought about it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Art of the Warrior**

They took the entire night and most of the following morning to recover from their attempts on the icy slopes of the Altar. Ryan had successfully gained three out of four pieces to his Tower and was particularly jovial at breakfast. Geoff had taken to ale early in the morning at the thought of handing over his crown very soon and was considerably less joyful than his most likely successor. He gulped down the potent drink noisily as the others mingled around the base of his throne.

"Possibly the last challenge," Ray muttered to Gavin, who was standing next to him on the red carpet in the centre of the arena. His friend just nodded.

"Do you think Ryan will make a good King?" Ray continued. Gavin took a moment to compare the drinking, morose man at the height of the throne with the sleek, confident man standing tall at the base of it. Ryan struck him as very much like the wolf Gavin had been forced to kill in order to strike a blow to his competitor – he was likewise lean with a kind of brilliance that hinted at both intelligence and menace. He didn't think he could put this into words for Ray's benefit though and merely shrugged in response to the question. Truly, he would rather put his trust in Geoff to see them through the tough times and the good times. He imagined Ryan to be a strict and demanding ruler. The rose-bearing Ray just fixed his dark eyes on his competition and mulled it over thoughtfully, his expression giving nothing away.

"Your next task," began Geoff, "is simple. Without maiming another, you must build a wall inside my arena and decorate it with an appropriate image. Something fitting for a warrior. I will tell you when you have succeeded. Off you go!"

Build a wall? Hang a picture? That was it? The five men blinked at each other, flummoxed at the straightforward task that was to elevate one of them to royalty. But as Jack sauntered off outside the arena to collect wood the others shook off their confusion and got to work.

Ryan flicked his chest open and considered his King, slumped back on the throne and drinking down ale as though it was water. What picture would Geoff appreciate? Fitting for a warrior? He took out his tools and began on the wall. That, at least, he could get right.

Gavin knew his adopted father better than the others and started building with enthusiasm. He had a good idea of what the King expected, it would just be getting the thing in place before any of the others cottoned on to his idea…

Mogar was hammering wooden slates into the ground with gusto, pounding away with the brunt of his sword instead of a hammer. The sound of his exertions carried around the arena and had his friend Gavin laughing within moments.

"It's a bloody wall Michael, not a Creeper," joked the young man. "You don't have to beat it up."

"I'll beat _you_ up Gavin, if you don't shut your mouth."

"But Michael…"

From the opposite side of the arena, just before the throne, Jack warbled a falsetto imitation of Gavin's ridiculous 'but Michael' and Gavin finally shut up, deciding that maybe this wasn't the greatest time to deride the warrior with a gigantic sword in his fist. Geoff chortled heartily at the light banter.

Ray in the meantime had unrolled canvas and was threading wool through the back of a picture that no one could see because he kept the face of it down in the grass as he worked. Thanks to his foraging in the previous rounds he was surrounded in the petals of red roses and exuded the sweet scent of them. The most beautiful of these flowers was tucked carefully into his suit lapel, the rest were scattered for their perfume. That intoxicating scent was extremely powerful and while Ray simply basked in the smell of dozens of roses the others found it potent and distracting. Ryan in particular was sniffling and sneezing heavily whenever he ventured too close to the Rose Warrior.

But Ray just hummed, seemingly unaware of the effect of his blossoms, and got on with his work.

They kept at it for a short time, hammering up rudimentary walls, nailing planks up against the structure, stretching canvas and creating a means for it to hang but no one dared reveal their chosen picture until Michael piped up with a tentative, "Does this please you, my liege?"

The others halted their work, all turning to watch Geoff descend his golden throne to the front of the arena. Mogar stood awkwardly, leaning against his flimsy wall of wood, flourishing his hands at the image he had chosen. It was of a kung-fu artist flying into the air, his face fixed in a grimace of effort, bearing down upon his blue-clad opponent. It was blurred with the motion of the two fighters, full of pastel colours that were shaded together almost as though it really was in a whirl of action. It certainly was a picture fit for a warrior. Ryan felt a tearing sensation in his gut as he realised Michael had succeeded in this challenge. Gavin shook his head in a mixture of amazement and disappointment; it was exactly the image he had chosen, he just hadn't been able to hang it up as quickly as the lithe warrior.

King Geoff apparently concurred with the notion that it was the correct image and held out a piece of the golden Tower for Michael.

"Congratulations, you're catching up," he commented as Michael delightfully connected the pieces of his so-to-be Tower.

He was indeed catching up. Michael had two pieces now and was hard on Ryan's heels. If Ryan could win the next task the crown was his. The two men stared each other down for a moment, searching for any discernable weakness in their nearest foe. Michael found uncertainty hidden behind the shutters of Ryan's sharp eyes. Ryan saw nothing but raw determination in the younger warrior, flush now with his recent accomplishment. The Animal-Whisperer took down what he'd completed of his wall and repacked his wooden chest.

_It all hinges on what Geoff has planned, _he thought. _Anything to do with battle and strength and Mogar might have me beat, at least enough to tie the score. But if it has to do with intellect or construction… Then I might just have him. He's more apt to cut through the tangled knot of a problem than try to unravel it. That's always been his way. _

Gavin clapped Michael on the back good-naturedly.

"No hard feelings then?" he asked with an irresistible cheeky grin plastered on his face.

"Guess not, you loser," Michael jibbed back with a friendly push. "But when I'm King you'll have to be more respectful."

"Me? Disrespectful?" Gavin clapped a hand to his chest in mock injury. "Never!"

Jack was packing up in his usual quiet manner and he was not happy with what he detected in Ryan.

_He doesn't see Michael's win as just any old victory, _the troubled man thought to himself. _Michael is blocking his way to the Kingship of the kingdom. Ryan's a sneaky devil. I wouldn't like to cross him. _

But he shrugged these uncomfortable considerations aside to take down the hardwood of his own and the other's walls. They left Mogar's tribute picture to King Geoff standing proudly by the Iron Gates. It was a great new adornment for the arena.

"The night is coming," Geoff remarked and his friends all fell silent to listen to him. "Time is short. Gather round and I will explain what could be our last challenge."

Ray dusted himself off and stood regally on the red carpet, his white and black tuxedo immaculate despite all of his construction. Jack hefted an axe over one broad shoulder and did as he was told. Gavin and Michael were still mock-fighting but at Geoff's command they closed in on the base of the throne, eager faces turned towards the man they both highly regarded. Ryan, quietly simmering with repressed impatience for the moment he was handed his crown, also followed instructions promptly.

The arena fell quiet except for the rustle of a light breeze through the forest branches outside. Light was fading, the shadows stretched further in the pinkish hue of the sky.

King Geoff scowled and leant forward. His next task was not going to be easy or without pain but such was the life of a King.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: Madness Rising**

Geoff unconsciously lowered his voice and bent forward to address his subjects for their next ordeal.

"Kings must bear pain, know what it is to fall to injury and know the cost of shedding blood. Your next challenge is to shoot yourselves right here in front of my throne, with an arrow which you must craft or find within the kingdom. Your bow you must make yourselves. You cannot bring down your other contestants, for this task is to show that we are the makers of our own misery and we must overcome wounds of the flesh for the sake of others. Go now!"

The younger men especially were wide-eyed at the challenge they had been set. Maim themselves with an arrow from their own hand? Gritting his teeth, Mogar charged off into the forest in search of wood for a bow and arrow. Likewise, Ryan did not waste time contemplating the pains of the task – he just did as he was instructed. Soon the two were searching fervently for wood and string, deep in the moss-covered heart of the woodland.

Gavin shuddered in remembered agony – having just survived a painful experience atop the Altar he hadn't the heart to put his limbs through more of that kind of misery so soon. But one quick flickering gaze at his King's resolute face made him certain that if he wanted any kind of shot at attaining the throne he had better quit his whining and get on with it. He shouldered his pack and walked out of the Iron Gates, setting up a small crafting bench just outside of the arena.

Creatures of the darkness were stirring; Ray could hear their grotesque barking cries in the black envelopment of the coming night. Moonlight was shimmering down and turning his red rose silver and grey.

_It's going to be hazardous enough getting around Achievement City, let alone shooting ourselves, _he considered glumly. _What's the point? I don't have a single piece of the Tower. Why should I have to go through this?_

Jack was having similar thoughts but his course of action was entirely different. He was furiously forging a blade that would see him through until dawn, worried that the creatures would murder him many times over before he even got the chance to try stringing a bow.

King Geoff noticed the rapidly accumulating monsters of the night just outside of his arena and stood on the pinnacle of his golden throne, watching tirelessly. Flesh-eating corpses arose from the earth and started shuffling towards the Iron Gates. Without letting the horde out of his sight, Geoff calmly drew his own enchanted bow and supply of arrows from him chest and took the first limping zombie in his sights. An arrow through the eye would bring them down; nothing else at long range could stop them. He loathed close combat; it was tiring and pointless and just put needless dents in his armour.

Twang. His first shot flew true and the leading zombie screeched something terrible before flopping limply to the ground and moving no more. King Geoff took a moment of satisfaction before drawing his next arrow and taking steady aim. At least he had something to do while the others were busy creating the tools for their task.

Ryan was stoking the coal in his furnace when he glimpsed an odd sort of billowing shadow out of the corner of his eye. Deep in the cover of trees he thought that most of the night's terrors would be unable to detect him and that he'd be able to keep his fire well hidden. But there was something nearby and it disturbed him.

He unsheathed a crude iron sword he'd managed to cobble together and stood immobile, waiting for something to strike.

_It's not a Creeper or I'd be able to hear it. _Ryan went through the possibilities in his head, ticking through the list of known terrors. _It's no zombie either. A skeleton archer would have shot at me by now. A spider would be easy to spot with its red eyes. The others are under instructions not to hurt me this round. What the hell is coming after me?_

Icy uncertainty curdled in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down. He strained his ears but save for the rustle of his feet against grass there was no sound. Ryan tasted fear, bitter and callous on his tongue and swallowed hard. Now he could only hear the racing of his panicked heart and the rasping of his breathing, astonishingly loud in the almost-silence of the forest.

_What the hell is it?_

Something terribly, terribly immense and rife with fury swiped down from above and clipped him full across the throat with a stunning blow. Dazed, horrified, Ryan spun on the spot and swung wildly. The thin and lengthy adversary merely vanished before his eyes, leaving a flicker of purple stars in its wake. Although struggling to breathe properly and in considerable pain Ryan suddenly understood what had attacked him and tried to scream. Nothing but a slight wheezing shriek passed his lips.

_Enderman!_

Exceedingly rare among the beings that walked Achievement City, Endermen were hardly ever encountered and when they were they had to be approached with extreme caution. Hideous shadowy things with bulbous eyes and magical abilities like teleportation, the Endermen were a largely unknowable entity. All feared them, for if you stared into the eyes of an Endermam, it would mark you as its next victim and the sharp attacks of an Enderman were hard to withstand without substantial armour and weapons. Brave warriors were known to have cried for their mothers at the mere hint of an Enderman.

Ryan drew his hand away from his throat and felt warm blood against his palm. He was marked. That was very inconvenient, all things considered.

At the same moment Ryan was trying to stem the flow of blood from his neck, Geoff was having serious issues protecting his throne by himself and had been discovered by Gavin trying to clobber zombies from the top of his seat of power. For some reason the enemy were clawing instinctively towards the King in ridiculous numbers, groaning and moaning in steady chorus. Gavin drew his own sword and rushed in to defend his liege without thinking twice.

"I've got this!" roared Geoff from the throne, bashing another undead to the ground.

"I doubt you've got this!" Gavin yelled back in response as he separated a zombie's head from its torso.

"Gavin…"

"There's a zombie on the throne!" His adopted son took a split second to point before resuming his hacking, slashing action on the pack of the undead.

Geoff whipped his head around and confronted a disgusting, slobbering corpse on his own chair! He slit it from navel to throat with his sword and skewered it just under the chin. Putrid rotted remains spewed forth from his injury to the zombie but he wasn't done yet. In a mighty feat of strength he used his sword to drive the zombie up into the air and flung it from the blade off the side of his high throne. It fell and hit the arena floor with a cracking, sloppy thump.

King Geoff drew his attention back to Gavin and saw that the young man had been overwhelmed and was probably down in his quarters, waking up in his nice downy bed. Shaking his head, Geoff leapt down the stairs of his golden chair and got to work making mincemeat of the remaining monsters.

Meanwhile Mogar was racing back to the arena, a bow sitting comfortably across his back. All he needed was an arrow or two and he was confident he could find one from a skeleton archer's stash. It was quicker than whittling his own. Huffing along the edge of the river, he was making as much noise as possible to draw the enchanted warriors out of the trees and to get them to shoot at him.

"Come on! Come on and try get me bitches! Come on!" Michael, laughing a little at the absurdity of the situation, ran steadily along the water's edge, waiting for that tell-tale whistle of an arrow streaking through the air.

Only about a mile away from Michael's frivolous attempts to retrieve an arrow, Jack was tripping over himself in the inky blackness trying to ignite even one of his torches when he heard deep, booming laughter.

_That's… Ryan. _

He finally got his flint to his torch and a flame spat into vibrant life, illuminating his surroundings just a little. Yes, definitely amidst the thrashing tumult of the river he could hear Ryan's laughter climbing to a strange, airy pitch. He'd never heard his friend laugh like that before; he'd never heard anybody laugh in such a strange way before.

_What's up with him?_

"Hey, Ryan?" Purely on a whim Jack called out, hoping that his friend would answer and stop that bizarre, endless laughing.

But no, the sound of it continued, growing more distant and hazy as he listened. Jack reached deep within his pocket and got what he need to fix his torch to a stone but by the time he'd safely coerced the flaming stick to stay in one place the maniacal guffawing had petered off into the distance. Jack tried to figure out where Ryan might be going and his stomach dropped.

_He's headed back to the arena. Jesus, he's got what he needs. He's actually going to do it._

Moonlight streamed across the Iron Gates as Ryan finally made his way through them to behold Geoff burning the bodies of the zombies he'd killed. Gavin was fanning the flames higher, steadily smoking the corpses. Both men turned to face Ryan as he limped towards them.

There was something very wrong with him, that was a fact. Geoff could spot bright, slick blood down the front of Ryan's usually clean shirt and congealing darkly under his jawline. It was a particularly disturbing sight illuminated by the glow of burning bodies. Gavin didn't like the odd half-smile Ryan was wearing on his pallid face or the way that his friend's body was slumped sideways, as though every step was uncoordinated and ungainly.

_It's like Ryan is a zombie or something, _Gavin thought. _He's so creepy._

Although he was dazed and half-crazed, Ryan did not hesitate to complete the task set before him. Ryan drew out his bow and put an arrow to the string, aimed at the brilliant moon above and let the arrow fly. As it whizzed away he simply stood there, his eyes drifted shut and he spread his arms wide as though embracing the fiery bonfire. Gavin's throat caught and he drew his own arms closer to himself in a kind of comforting gesture, waiting for that deadly arrow to drop back on top of the man who would be King.

They didn't have to wait long. It was extremely quick – the rush of whistling night air, the plummet of the arrow's small shadow, the shock of seeing it bury itself in Ryan's chest and the horrific gape of Ryan's scream as it sank deeper into his flesh. Geoff rushed to his friend's side and tore the arrow free in one hearty yank. Ryan grimaced and spat but didn't say a word as it was ripped from his body. His eyes were drawn wide and the whites of them seemed to glisten, far too large to be normal, in the warm firelight. A tiny streak of saliva trickled from the very corner of his lips but it was so thin that only Geoff saw it.

An immense, bellowing gong sounded. The tournament was complete. A new King had been chosen. Ray, Jack and a very disappointed Michael returned to the arena and beheld Geoff holding Ryan upright by the dying light of zombies burning.

"The final piece," Geoff proclaimed as he slid the golden block into Ryan's gore-flecked hands. "The kingship is yours, Ryan of House Haywood."

Unsteady of his feet, Ryan had to be helped to his Tower, where he gingerly lay the final block.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: All Hail the Mad King**

Achievement City was full of warm, pale light on the day of Ryan's coronation. Geoff had posted the news far and wide that he was abdicating until the day when his daughter was old enough to take her place on the throne. Until that day, ten years from now, whoever held supremacy was the rightful King of his kingdom. He made it very clear to all his subjects that Ryan's ability to rule had been proven in conquest, in fairness and in such a way that all their favourite heroes had been able to challenge him for the crown. Ryan the victor was well-suited to take his place as the King of Achievement City.

Villagers mingled in the town square – some of them hopeful, some of them disgruntled, children laughing and running between their parents' legs, just ecstatic to be a part of the day. There were decorations up; glowstone pillars and portraits, colourful streamers gently shook in the pleasant breeze. The night before there had been an unexpected lack in monster attacks that had left everyone in a thankful and uplifted mood. No one could have asked for a better day to mark the momentous occasion.

Geoff carried the golden Tower that symbolised Ryan's victory in his hands. He was visibly nervous. His dark and watchful eyes flickered this way and that. Clearly, something was bothering him.

No one could have guessed the case of his apprehension. Gavin had come to him this morning with some unsettling observations about the man who had emerged victorious from their tournament.

"He's just so weird, especially around animals. After the tournament, I think he's gotten weirder," his adopted son had remarked. "It's something…. Damn it all. I don't know. There's something in his _eyes, _Geoff. Can't you see how creepy he is? Do you really want this guy running the kingdom?"

But Geoff had at the time waved Gavin's concerns aside. Standing before the townspeople however, he had to admit that his jovial son may have had a valid point. Ryan stood waiting for the ceremony to begin with quiet dignity, his back ramrod straight, his suit polished and gleaming in the morning light. Deep within his cool, brilliant eyes there was this deadened quality, a shark-like stare that chilled Geoff to the bone. But it was more than just his eyes. He understood now why Gavin had not been able to describe exactly what was bothering him so much about the soon-to-be-crowned man. It was that snide, sneaking grin that hide at the corner of the new King's mouth – a type of menacing smugness that pervaded his expression. A drop of devilishness in what was otherwise a straightforward and highly intelligent man, capable of commanding a kingdom.

Geoff didn't like it but it couldn't be helped. The deal was a deal. The tournament was concluded. Ryan had won fairly.

_Remember though, what he looked like coated in blood. _Geoff uneasiness whispered to him, prickling at the edges of his nerves. _He shot an arrow into his own flesh for your crown. He set wolves on your friends. Who knows what he is capable of? Gavin's right – are you sure you want this man in charge of your people?_

Everyone had at last assembled. It was time. Geoff shook away his doubts and fears like old cobwebs. They were thoughts for a later date. Today there was too much celebration in the air to worry about such things.

In a regal procession, the House of Haywood was given the crown and sceptre of ruling and Geoff himself gave Ryan his Tower. Ryan erected the monument outside of his dwelling and as one the crowd screamed delight, fawning on their new ruler. The King accepted this adoration with a steady wave and a truly pious tilt of his head, taking in the crowd's adulation as his right, as though he'd been born to sit atop the throne. He certainly looked more commanding than the shaky, jittery former King, who stood to one side in deep thought and jumped whenever someone tried to attract his attention. Ryan made an awesome figure, standing proudly at the pinnacle of his well-deserved Tower.

Michael, Jack, Ray and Gavin stood towards the back, clapping along with the rest of them. Jack in particular was showing excellent sportsmanship, cheering loudly with the villagers. Michael had a bit of sourness in his expression. He didn't like losing at the best of times but to have been beaten in such a close match right at the very end… He tried to bury his seething. Ray and Gavin were murmuring to each other in hushed tones.

"Did you hear it in the night?"

"I heard _something _alright but I've got no idea what it was…"

"I couldn't sleep. He's so creepy. I tried to tell Geoff this morning but I didn't have any proof…"

"What on earth are you two talking about?" Jack interjected. The great beaming smile on his face slipped a little as Gavin, unusually grave, cast a wary eye about before answering his question. The villagers nearby were too enthralled with jostling forward to get a better glimpse of their new monarch to be paying attention to their conversation, however. Gavin felt it safe to answer Jack's query quietly in their tight-knit group.

"Last night when we got back out of the Arena I heard noises…." The young man took a shuddering breath before he continued. "It was a bloody cow, mooing in the darkness nearby. It sounded like it was being hurt so I crept out of my house and took a look around."

"Apparently it was Ryan," Ray cut in. "Ryan was forcing a cow into his house. _Under _his house."

Jack laughed, certain that the two guys were joking with him.

"What?" The bearded man responded, still laughing. "That's ridiculous."

"I'm serious. He was crazy! He trapped a cow underneath his house. He encased it in a glass cage!" Gavin spat out furiously, taking offence at Jack's amusement. "Why won't anyone believe me?"

Michael stepped into the conversation.

"Because _you _sound like a fucking loony, that's why. A cow, Gavin? Really?"

Ray for his part simply watched his new King step up and address the crowd with a charisma and charming smile that he had come to know was an integral part of Ryan. This was the Ryan they all were familiar with – the intellectual Ryan, the constructive Ryan, the scientist and politician willing to lead them all forward into tomorrow.

Achievement City rung with joyous bells tolling the happy news. Murals of the new King were cropping up everywhere. The villagers were hymning that the good times would flourish under King Ryan, that he would create a kingdom full of prosperity and progress, that they would lead wonderful lives with their handsome and friendly monarch. The House of Haywood was being toasted in taverns across the land.

Ray considered all of this with a slightly creased brow but as usual he made no remark. Time would tell exactly what Geoff had got them all into soon enough. Only time would show how a man like Ryan would reign over the people.

The heated argument continued between Michael and Gavin, neither man willing to back down.

"It sounds so stupid… Why would he bother sticking a cow…?"

"Because he's a damn loony Michael?! I don't know! But I'm telling you, that's what happened! I heard it and I saw it just last night!"

Jack tuned out the friends' bickering and instead watched the crowd begin to disperse. Town square wasn't an enormous place and the huge population of villagers packed in it gave it a mildly claustrophobic air he didn't like. But they had every right to celebrate alongside their heroes. They didn't even really understand what had gone into the tournament in the first place. Geoff had urged secrecy on that point, to give the King his due. No one could know what they had been through deep within the forest. No one could enter the enchanted arena except for their group. They had all agreed to these stipulations. Jack thought it all a bit dramatic but he was not the type of person to break his word.

"All Hail the King! All Hail King Ryan!" The ecstatic crowd cried on, drowning them all in a wall of shouting voices.

Gavin crossed his arms and gave an angry sort of pout that Michael couldn't help but scoff at.

"I'll prove it to you!" Gavin vowed in an angry, disgruntled tone.

Michael threw an arm around his best friend's shoulders. His armour clanked a little when he moved so quickly but he was careful not to hit Gavin with any of it. His sword was safety sheathed by his side. Gavin was enveloped by his huge, furry, one-armed hug.

"Gavin, come on boi, don't be like that…"

But his friend pointed a stern finger in Mogar's face.

"I will show you that Ryan is plain mad. I will prove it to you. And one day, you'll regret you didn't listen to me," Gavin promised them all. Jack shook his head at the discussion and thought no more of it, ambling back towards his house. Ray, silent and contemplative, slipped into the celebrations to be amongst the noise and the parties.

The coronation festivities lasted days.

_**When summer faded like a dream and the ides of fall were upon them, Geoff was thankful he'd set the enchantment to force the competitors into battle once again. King Ryan was quickly dubbed the 'Mad King' as Gavin was correct in his assumptions and the townspeople discovered that Ryan had indeed trapped a cow beneath glass in his home. Edgar the cow became infamous and at night it was rumoured you could hear the cow's languishing cries and Ryan's maniacal laughter throughout town square. All lived through the summer in terrible fear of the highhanded and stern King, who seemed without restraint or empathy. Time showed, as Ray had thought, that it had been a terrible mistake to cast Geoff down from his throne. In the hands of Ryan the kingdom became a place of paranoia, odd beasts and monsters. Ryan replaced the golden throne with a huge, ugly thing made of skulls but as promised, he consulted with the villagers ever day of his reign. All that laid eyes on the hideous, sprawling furniture made of carcasses were filled with a terrible sense of doom and horrified awe of the blood-soaked monarch that sat upon it.**_

_**Fall brought the beautiful wooden colours of the world back into the trees and the days shortened. The Iron Gates of the Arena swung open once more and the six men, each unaware of what each other was doing, journeyed through the silent forest to its doorway. **_

_**Coming soon… Birthed in Flames, a Tale of Ray's Ascension to the Throne of Achievement City**_


End file.
